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The 20th of November is shocking, antagonizing but thrilling: review

Lars Noren play about German teen who shot students and teachers is Brendan Healy's farewell from Buddies in Bad Times

Sina Gilani is terrifying as school shooter Bastian Bosse in The 20th of November at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre.
(JEREMY MIMNAGH)

By Carly MagaSpecial to the Star

Wed., Sept. 23, 2015

The 20th of November

Written by Lars Noren. Directed by Brendan Healy. Until Oct. 4 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St. BuddiesInBadTimes.com or at 416-975-8555

Toronto theatre is going to hurt while Brendan Healy steps away from the stage and leaves his position as artistic director of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. And we don’t say that only because his latest production, and last one in the role he’s held for six years, will leave you feeling like you were punched in the face.

The choice The 20th of November by Swedish playwright Lars Noren as a farewell was unexpected; it doesn’t overtly deal with issues of sexual identity, key to the mandate of North America’s largest queer theatre, and it’s made up almost entirely of the personal blog entries of 18-year-old Bastian Bosse right before he shot 30 of his classmates and teachers in Emsdetten, Germany, on Nov. 20, 2006.

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This kind of story, sadly, always seems timely, especially in Toronto after recent threats toward feminists at the University of Toronto. It’s a hard task to ask audience members to sympathize with a character like this, and potentially a very offensive and controversial one. Even the idea of giving this individual’s perspective on the world another public platform is problematic, even if it’s meant to shed light on an isolated person or group. This is probably the weakest aspect of the show, as Noren lets Bosse’s indictments and philosophies meander, repeat and antagonize.

But what unfolds, thanks to Healy and actor Sina Gilani, is more complex than sympathizing or not sympathizing. Healy and Gilani — who’s terrifying as he manages the bridge between the character’s deliberate, almost rehearsed, moments of intimidation, like posing with his weapons, and other breaks of pure internal rage — don’t present an evil caricature; it’s their job to explore the human being and not his actions.

But with the audience gathered to hear the shooter’s motivations an hour before he commits his violent act, what we make of him is only half the battle. The real punch is how we implicate ourselves in it.

In the Buddies theatre, unrecognizably stripped of its bleacher seating and raised stage, the audience sits in a semicircle of chairs with Gilani at the far end of the space, designed by Camellia Koo, which resembles a high school gymnasium stuck in limbo.

Rebecca Picherack’s lighting keeps the audience in full view of Gilani and each other through his speech. The tension starts as soon as the audience enters, chatting with friends about phones and movies, relaxing in the final minutes before deciding to pay attention to the actor. No one sits anywhere near him. But he has been watching us the whole time. And he hates us.

He blames his attitude toward life and society on many things, much of which will sound familiar: bullying, consumerism, capitalism, sexual frustration, the German education system and leftover guilt of the Second World War. But the major recipient of his increasingly unhinged ire is the audience, not “the audience” in general but each one of us as individuals who are able to go to work and make money and spend it on a play. He hates anyone and everyone who buys into society. He especially hates the two men falling asleep as he says this.

As he attacks our life choices and values and tries to convince us they’re worthless, we’re worthless, Healy gives us the chance to defend ourselves, to tell the shooter he’s wrong. After such an angry, antagonizing introduction to the character, being engaged like this is a puzzling, unsettling shock. The next move will change depending on the particular audience, but in our case the room remained silent.

It’s important to note that the show doesn’t glamourize the shooter or his actions. In a frankly horrifying climax, Gilani turns into a literal human monster with simple but chilling use of a voice distorter and tape.

After that, there’s no clear finish. There could be some limp applause, there could be none at all. Re-entry into the real world is awkward and overwhelming. Unlocking your front door, logging onto Facebook or answering work emails becomes hollow. And the faster this feeling disappears, the more poignant The 20th of November feels. This is not pleasant. But it is thrilling.

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